Paper Heart
by base ix
Summary: The lingering acts and words you said, tore this paper heart and bled. -- [Kakashi & Sakura, Act IV: To Separate]
1. Act I: To Confess

**Author's Note**: Let's face it -- If I owned Naruto and its fictional characters, I would be doing something better than typing out this disclaimer. 

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**Paper Heart.  
**  
**Act I.**  
  
She had grown to become wise beyond her years, her body lagging behind as her mind developed beyond typical teenaged standards. Seventeen years old, yet her words reflected the deep and wise analytical impulses of an elder individual. However, she remained unhurried towards the idea of adulthood and the unavoidable life of heavy responsibilities as a Konohagure Kunoichi. To her metaphoric standards, the age of seventeen years was the teetering edge of adolescence. Due to her reasoning, she held every day of the year in the palm of her hand; making the best of her memories before she crossed over to the second milestone of life.  
  
Perhaps she did it to avoid the small spark of fear quelling inside her young and innocent heart. She was somewhat afraid of the future, feeling as if life would come on her eighteenth year to clasp a chain and ball to her ankle. To afterwards have a book of rules thrown and skittered to the side of her feet, stating in wordless means that giggling about boys and sharing precious secrets between close friends is nothing but an immature smear of the past.  
  
"You okay?" a voice called to her in question, interrupting the long line of thoughts and snapping her out of her trance. Her green eyes averted from the ground as a comforting hand squeezed her shoulder in assurance.  
  
"Kakashi-sensei," she began, with a questioning tone reverberating as she said his name. His visible, dark-hazel eye glanced down in response.  
  
He was an adult. Thirty-one years of age, she figured he should have had formed at least some depiction of life through a number of experiences. She decided to ask him, merely because he was the only person around, but mainly because his insightful words always seemed to find a way to settle her troubled mind. She knitted her hands.  
  
"What's it like, becoming an adult?" she quietly asked, picking on the grass in front of her. "How does it feel when you're forced to tuck your childhood in your pocket, only to refer back to it with memories?"  
  
The orange illumination of the bright, setting sun revealed the shadow of his smile formed behind his mask; casuing her stomach to flutter involuntarily. A strange reaction -- no, a _normal_ reaction, she confirmed in her head. She had analyzed his mysterious looks countless times; from the shapely outline of his chiseled jaw to the slight, faint trace of dimples when he curtly smiled. She doubtlessly knew he had to be nothing but handsome underneath. She inwardly nodded, telling herself anyone would've had the same reaction she just had. However, convincing herself was hard, especially when he continued to stare at her at an unknown depth.   
  
Another butterfly escaped its cage to tickle her stomach.  
  
"What?" she managed out, raising an eyebrow at him as she bit her tongue to control herself.  
  
He shook his head and averted his gaze towards the shadowed outline of buildings.   
  
"Nothing," he softly replied.  
  
"So?" she pressed on. "What is it like?"  
  
"You really want to know, don't you?"  
  
"Well, yeah... I guess."  
  
A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back on his elbows. He looked different somehow, she noted. Logic told her it was because his Jounin vest was off, but there was something else _different_ about him that nagged her curiosity. Her eyes looked at his figure whole, searching to find an answer as he looked ahead.  
  
"Well," he began. "At first, you don't feel anything. As if life decided to skip you, and move on to the next person." She saw his eye glint in the remaining sunlight, reflecting a look of both nostalgia and sadness as he looked down. "You then open your eyes, realizing they were closed for a quarter of your life. Like walking out of a door, to then realize it's a window."  
  
A moment paused before he briefly laughed and shook his head in disbelief.   
  
_What the hell am I saying?_ she saw him mouth to himself.  
  
He turned to her and offered a sideways glance.   
  
"I'm sorry, Sakura-chan," he apologized. "I can't explain it into words. This is one of those great mysteries of life you can only know from experience. From feeling," he added. Her brow was furrowed in both confusion and contemplation.  
  
_From feeling_, her mind repeated. Perhaps he knew the answer to her condition. There were times when she almost feared it as a serious medical problem; wondering if she should call the surgeon, to crack her ribs and take the odd warmth growing in her chest. The burning that spread to her vocal chords at questionable moments, stealing her voice and leaving her speechless during conversations. It would singe her nerves afterward, tingling her fingertips and reddening her face as the warmth briskly touched her cheeks.  
  
"Kakashi-sensei," she called out once more. She roughly brushed away the pink locks of hair that fell on her face, as the Konoha wind blew its final breath before summoning the black veil of stars to appear.   
  
He laid himself on the grass, closing his eye and crossing his arms to the back of his head as support. "Hm?" he replied, assuring her that he was still listening.  
  
As she watched him, she abruptly felt the symptoms of her sickness rise. Her mouth opened to utter the question, but nothing would come out. Her mind went over what to say at least a hundred times, yet she was wordless. In a desperate attempt to regain her voice, she clutched at her burning chest and swallowed her dry throat. His eye slightly opened to glance at her in question.  
  
"Are you sure you're okay?"  
  
"Y-yeah, I'm fine," she peeped out.  
  
He continued to look at her, patiently waiting for her inquiries.  
  
"L-lately, I've been having this weird pain in my chest. Well, I wouldn't call it _pain_, exactly," she explained. "More like a _feeling_... for the lack of better words." He saw her pink hair lightly tossle as she shook her head and muttered to herself.  
  
"Any... Anyway," she continued. "I get lightheaded at strange moments, and my stomach begins to tie itself into knots. Occasionally, my voice goes out when I don't mean it to." She pasued for a moment before she frantically leaned towards him, eyes touched with a hint of panic. "I've been thinking it's some sort of disease or something, but I'm too scared to go to the doctor to--"  
  
Her frenzy explaination was cut short with the sound of his laughter. His hands rose and covered his face, continuing to laugh in his palms. Not finding anything funny about the issue, she frowned and lightly slapped his shoulder.  
  
"Kakashi-sensei, I'm serious!"  
  
"I know, I know! Sorry."  
  
He sat up after a while and patted her head the way he used to when she was twelve. She blushed, feeling like a naive child again; tentavely questioning the mysteries of the world and expecting an answer each time.  
  
"Don't worry, it's not a disease," he confirmed with a smile. Her eyes lit up at the news, but then dimmed after a few seconds as more suspicions filled her mind.  
  
"What is it then?" she asked, hugging her knees as she looked at the ground.   
  
He was slightly taken aback at her seriousness about the issue. She quite honestly didn't know what was going on with herself, and he responded by laughing at her words. Biting the inside of his cheek to ebb down the pang of regret, he lifted her chin up with his index finger to face him.  
  
"Hatsukoi," he merely said.  
  
"Sure sounds like a disease to me," she bluntly stated, rolling her eyes. He took his hand away from her face and chuckled larconically.  
  
"So, who's the lucky person?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  
  
"You know," he explained, pointing at her stomach. "The one who's been giving you the butterflies."  
  
Her eyes widened. How did he know about the butterflies?  
  
"Well, who is it?" He pressed on. "Sasuke-kun? Naruto-kun?" He leaned forward and covered the side of his mouth with one hand to whisper in her ear. "Or is it Lee-san?" he playfully asked.   
  
She smirked.  
  
"Sensei!" she exclaimed, nudging the side of his head and pushing him away. "He gives me gnats in my stomach, not butterflies!"  
  
He grinned and cleared his throat, signaling that he was momentarily serious about the topic.  
  
"This is a pretty important part of your life, Sakura-chan."  
  
She frowned again. How does a disease become an important part of her life? Is it his way of saying she was slowly dying a painful death of some sort?  
  
"Neji-san? Kiba-kun?" He rubbed his chin and thought, still trying to figure out who the person was. His eye looked back at her in question. "Are you _sure_ it's not Sasuke-kun?"  
  
She slapped a hand on her forehead and groaned. "Sensei, you of all people should know it's not him. I got over him like--"  
  
"--two years ago. I know," he verified. "Just making sure."  
  
She gave up the idea of romance and dreams of receiving her first kiss a long time ago; realizing that it was a waste of time to dwell on something that was nonexistent. After being painfully rejected at least a hundred times, she decided to throw the towel down. If she couldn't even catch the attention of a guy she'd risked her life taking care of in his weakest moments within the past couple of years, she might as well not bother trying at all. It had been five years since she was grouped with him, accompanying him through deadly missions and life and death situations. Yet, he still hasn't looked towards her direction. Not even a glance.  
  
"Shikamaru? Shino?" his voice grabbed hold of her from a sea of thoughts. "Uhh..." he scratched the back of his head, running out of possibilities. Raising an eyebrow, he added, "Ch... Chouji, even? Or maybe--"  
  
"It's you."  
  
She watched as his smile slowly withered away.   
  
"Sakura, if this is supposed to be a joke, it's not fu--"  
  
"I'm not joking."  
  
Time seemed to stop, clinging on to the eternity of silence as the stars hung overhead.  
  
Finally, he decided to speak up.   
  
"Haruno Sakura, you are my student. I am your teacher. What you're feeling is--"  
  
"I know I'm your damn student, but what the hell does that have anything to do with what we're talking about?" she exploded. "You haven't even explained the symptoms I'm having!"  
  
_She still doesn't know what she's feeling_, he thought to himself as he sighed in frustration.  
  
He reluctantly rose and stood up, towering over her sitting figure. "Your symptoms are nothing more but emotions that need to be disregarded," he stated coldly, almost brutally. "It's too dangerous to hold on to."   
  
He decided to leave afterwards, putting his hands in his pockets and turning around; briskly walking away at a fast pace. Even when he heard his name calling out to him, toned with the clear, questioning voice of a woman, he dared not turn around. It would be too much for him, sending him on the edge of a cliff with nothing but common sense and logical reasoning to hold on as support. A cold hand roughly grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop.  
  
"Kakashi, _please_," she begged. He remained still, looking ahead to avoid seeing her eyes brim in liquid as it glowed a green facade in the night.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"I need to know," she bit down the tears. "I need to know what Hatsukoi means."  
  
His heart stopped for a moment.   
_There was always a possibility they could be..._  
  
He abruptly halted his thoughts from continuing; shaking his head and shrugging off her grip from his arm as he headed home. Slightly turning his head, he answered over his shoulder.  
  
"_First love_."


	2. Act II: To Realize

**Author's Note:** This isn't the last chapter. It may sound like it, but there's a lot more to go -- much to your heart's dismay. 

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**Paper Heart.  
  
Act II.  
  
**He didn't see her the next day, nor the next couple of days afterward.   
  
Naruto and Sasuke began to question where she was, but he firmly told the two not to search for her. It wasn't due to a lack of sympathy in his part, but merely as a courteous effort in cutting down nusances if they were to find her. He knew that she wouldn't pour details to the world as of what happened, but that was only because others wouldn't comprehend her words. Ironically enough, she found him to be the only one who understood her.  
  
He patiently waited for her to come back at her own accord; but on the ninth day, he felt as if he couldn't contain himself any longer. He didn't know why, but felt that he had to see her. To at least catch a glimpse before she scolded him and threatened to kill him with any close inanimate object at hand. Possibly, he wanted to see her due to his natural concern for his students. He felt it was reasonable enough to believe so; however, he also felt the need to present himself as a person and properly apologize after his harsh behavior. He hated the idea of inflicting pain, yet he hypocritically wrecked her with it; sending her away in a sea of confusion and, most likely, hatred towards his existence.  
  
Although he tried to disregard it, there was also the lingering emotion of fear that continued to nip at his thoughts. She confessed her sentiments for him without even knowing she did, and he pushed her away as an endeavor to shield her eyes from realization. If he were to go back in time, he wouldn't take back any of the things he told her that night. He would have erased the bitterness he presented with his words, but not the words itself.

She was a young woman on the verge of adulthood.

He was a man. More specifically, he was her teacher.

Her _sensei_.

It was wrong, and he knew the consequences were too grave; especially in his part. The fear dwelled inside, and for the sake of saving her from a regrettable life, he forced her away.

He didn't want her to fall for him.

...

Or was it, that he didn't want to fall for her?  
  
He mentally slapped himself across the jaw in a desperate attempt to keep his thoughts rational. __

_But..._

Was that really the cause of his fear? The idea of him, plummeting into some sort of one-sided affair? It was an absurd notion, but much to his dismay, it was highly possible. She had been posessed by a graceful diety, developing into an untouchable beauty no adjective can completely describe. It wasn't surprising how he would find Naruto catch his breath, noting her in reverence for what she had become. Though in denial, he would also find Sasuke glance at her longer than he should.  
  
However, what caught his attention the most was her intellect; maturely developed years ahead of her time, gifted with the ability to comprehend in more ways than one. Normally, a teenaged girl would have nothing but boys, crushes, and more boys to occupy her mind. Yet, _her_ mind was constantly thriving on a wider variety of aspects. Questions always speculated her thoughts, increasing her appearance of innocent curiosity during a conversation. It was probably due to her disregard in romance; the female stronghold during their developing years before adulthood. He suddenly realized why she didn't understand the emotions that quelled inside her, nor the reactions she received which directly pointed towards the feeling of affection.   
  
Affection for him.  
  
He tried, but couldn't swat away the butterflies.  
  
As he walked in the Konoha forest trail headed towards the village, he caught sight of a sillhouetted figure ahead; striding with an unmistakable head of pink hair. He continued to walk, casually staring ahead as if he didn't see her. It wasn't until their distance was met halfway when he stopped, still looking ahead with his hands in his pockets, posture lazily constructed. Though her eyes were fixed to the ground, her slight fidgetting and clentched fists told him she saw what was standing ahead.  
  
He stared the sky.   
  
She stared at the ground.  
  
The two parallels collided as she brushed past his shoulder, taking no means of looking at him nor speaking to him. However, she was forced to do so either way as he gently grabbed hold of her right arm; stopping her from walking away.

She bit her bottom lip and firmly closed her eyes, trying to control herself from doing anything reckless.  
  
The summer, afternoon winds blew between them as they stood staring at opposite directions; his hand still holding her arm, and her arm doing nothing to stop him from doing so. It felt as if hours sluggishly moved through time.  
  
"I'm sorry."

She felt him hesitantly let go of her arm, sliding his hand back into his pocket. However, she made no move to leave.  
  
"I'm the one who should be sorry," she stated coldly. "If you forgot, it was_ me_ who was feeling that way. Not_ you_."   
  
She let the silence settle between them before walking away.

His presence became something she disgusted above all things. It was already bad enough that she had to cross his path, having to talk to him when she promised herself she wouldn't the night after their quarrel. Her self-esteem had dramatically decreased within the past few days. Her skin paled from not having the appetite to eat.

There was no one to offer an outstretched hand as she slowly slipped away from the world.  
  
"How do you know if I'm not feeling the same way?" he quietly asked.

She swallowed.  
A clear distance away, she halted; digging her nails into her palms.   
  
"Don't you even _dare_ mess with my emotions. Kakashi-_sensei_," she spat out.  
  
"I wasn't trying to. Sakura-_chan_­."  
  
She stood there momentarily before swiftly turning around, not able to contain herself any longer. She didn't care if the liquid fell down her cheeks, or if her heart bled from all the pain, or if her mind shattered from the overflow of thoughts, or if her emotions broke into pieces.

She didn't care if she wanted be with him, no matter how much she realized she couldn't.  
  
"If you feel the same way, then take your own advice," she told him through gritted teeth and rackful sobs. "Because your symptoms are _nothing more but emotions that need to be disregarded_."  
  
Everything grew quiet.  
  
She had shot him with his own words.  
  
However, he offered no response, nor displayed any sympathy towards her feelings by turning to look at her.  
  
Instead, everything grew quiet.  
  
She fell on her knees as he walked away, letting herself bleed freely as her legs cut against the gravel. She stopped crying, but tears still ran down her face involuntarily. She let the saline wash her face, not bothering to wipe them away with her hands even when she tasted the salt in her mouth. Despite the location, she just wanted to lay on the ground and sleep. She was both physically and emotionally exhausted, wishing to wake up from the nightmare she brought herself into, unknowingly.

Unwillingly.  
  
Her head didn't bother turning when he reappeared behind her. She didn't bother putting out the dreadful warmth in her chest as he knelt down to embrace her from behind. She just wanted to sleep.  
  
To sleep, and never wake up again.  
  
"I hate you," she said, her voice distantly fading as slumber stole her away in his arms.  
  
She didn't feel him as he turned to cradle her sleeping form, to look at her face and offer an apologetic smile. She didn't see him brush away pink strands of hair from her face. Nor, did she see him pull his mask down before leaning in to whisper in her ear.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
No.  
  
She was too lost in her dreams to see or feel anything.  
  
But she heard him, somehow.


	3. Act III: To Abide

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the beautiful reviews from the previous chapter. 3 

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**Paper Heart.**

**Act III.**  
  
The sky fell as liquid droplets, mystically appearing as if mimicing the tears that fell earlier that day.

The annual summer rains of Konoha had come, causing the streets to quickly empty out as people frantically skittered for shelter. The liquid lullaby covered the atmosphere into a quiet vacuum, with no other sound to be heard but the trite melody of splashes. With the exception of the fallen leaves, he was the only one exposed to the rain as he casually walked home. He was in no hurry to cover himself from the shower as the others did, even as he carried a young, unconscious woman carefully in his arms. He merely wanted her tears and his troubles to be washed away with the gentle fingers of the storm.   
  
She slept, her face content with peace as she played with the stars. His brow creased in concern while wiping away the strands of hair that stuck to her face. He didn't want her to slip into another period of depression; locked up in her room without any accordance to the outside world as she spun in a carousel of degrading thoughts. To realize that her first love is set upon a man fourteen years older than her summoned a tidal wave of anxiety and confusion. The situation of being coldy rejected without even realizing _what_ she was being rejected from appeared to come down harder on her than the rain did on her face. He sighed regretfully and hugged her closer in an endeavor to warm her body; sacrificing his own heat to melt the iciness of her skin.   
  
Her body moved, waking up in a shivering clamor as her emerald eyes fluttered open. She was about to clutch her arms in a desperate attempt to regain her body heat, but found that someone else was already doing the job for her. The hazy vision of her eyes turned upward, finding herself staring at a gentle smile.  
  
"Sensei," she whispered, shyly looking back down when she felt her face tint a shade of red. Although she was exhausted beyond words, she still managed to curve a smile when he embraced her tighter.  
  
She found herself in his house, closely cradled in his arms as he sat leaning against the wall. The sound of the gray storm harmonized the melody of silence that peacefully settled between them. Puddles of water scattered in random areas on his floor, secretly reciting the story of a long walk in the rain. Her clothes were soaked, but her hair was gradually drying from lying her head against the heat of his chest. He was drenched as well, but didn't seem to mind much as his hair released droplets of water on his face. His Konoha headband was off, thrown to the side, but she found him still refusing to reveal the bottom portion of his face. She sighed.  
  
Her sensei, mysterious in both looks and reasoning.   
  
"What?" he curiously asked, after seeing her roll her eyes and grin in hidden amusement. She shook her head against his damp shirt, snuggling closer to his body.  
  
He watched her carefully.   
Affectionately.  
  
It made his heart ache.  
  
He didn't know how long the illusion will last, but he was sure that they would have to tear it down eventually. After laying his dark eyes upon her sadness and hatred, he found that his sympathy towards her had already evolved into a forbidding emotion. Even when he told himself a million times not to cross the border, his mind recklessly disobeyed. He knew that the consequence would only grow like a cancer as time progressed, slowly diminishing their freedom. Tight embraces would wither down to hugs; hugs to holding hands; and hands left with nothing to hold on to but false pinky promises.   
  
He sighed.  
  
It was an inevitable future of torture, for the less he'll be able to see her, the more he'll long for her. She was his happiness itself, shaped and disguised in a female form. However, the world will eventually rip her away from him without a hint of sympathy upon its face. She was the light of his life, as any helpless romantic would word it.  
  
Was he a helpless romantic? He knew he was helpless, but the world forbid him to be a romantic. He silently cursed time and the calendar for the fourteen years that stood between them, as they secretly held on to one another with one hand. He would never be able to refer themselves as being in a relationship, because they weren't. They weren't _allowed_ to be. He wouldn't be able to call themselves lovers either, for lovers are two souls with the ability to care for one another.   
  
_Freely._  
  
"Sensei."  
  
She pulled him from the storm in his mind. She sat up and stared at him, intuitively knowing what his thoughts were looping through.   
  
He offered a sad smile.   
She read his mind precisely.  
  
Touching the side of his face in a sympathetic manner, she wordlessly told him it was okay. His arms wrapped around her waist as they they sat for a while, lingering in a moment they knew they would long for in the future. She leaned forward, pressing her warm forehead against his. He closed his eyes momentarily before looking at her, eyes filled with a sense of sadness that made her heart melt.  
  
"Kakashi," she quietly commanded. "Stop thinking about it."  
  
"I don't want to ruin your life," he protested in a whisper. "You could always leave now and--"  
  
He suddenly felt her body press firmly against his, her hands deliberately trailing down his chest. She leaned into his face as her lips furtively brushed against his brow, mouth slightly opening as she slowly trailed down to his cheekbone. He still felt the warmth of her lips hovering over his, despite being covered up.

"Sakura," he persisted, biting the inside of his cheek to try and steady his breathing. "It's not too late to--"   
  
"I told you," her mouth featherly touching his as she muttered. "Stop thinking about it."   
  
"I'm just worried for you. For us," he tenderly added.   
  
She leaned back to sit on her knees between his legs, and for a long while, merely stared at him; hands clinging on the edge of his shirt like a wandering child. She traced the contours of his face with her eyes, noting every detail of his features both hidden and visible. She didn't persist him in revealing the rest of his identity to her, because she already knew he would be breathtakingly perfect underneath. Her heart skipped a beat, finding him staring back at her with the same intensity.   
  
Her hands moved to his sides as she hunched forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder. His arms wrapped around her, holding her closely as they waited for a haunting fate to come whisk them away.

Time slowly passed by, swirling around them in the form of fear and worry towards their future.  
  
They didn't get up to dry their clothes, still damp from the pouring rain.   
They didn't speak to each other, murmuring conversations and promises in a hushed tone.   
They didn't distract their misery with a moment between white bedsheets.

Instead, they sat there.  
  
A girl.  
A man.  
And an uncertain future.  
  
"Kakashi, I..."  
He hushed her thoughts with a soft kiss on the neck.  
  
If only she were allowed to fall in love with him.


	4. Act IV: To Separate

**Author's Note:** This one's pretty lengthy. 

**- - - - - - - - - - -**

**Paper Heart.**

**Act IV.**  
  
It was always his smell that intrigued her.  
  
She found it difficult to place it in words as to what he smelled like, because of how intoxicating it was. Strangely enough, when she first met him five years ago, it was the first thing she noted about him rather than his enigmatic appearance. While every other person was trying to figure out the great mystery of Hatake Kakashi, she was mindlessly driving herself to insanity for the lack of adjectives in the world. There appeared to be no description that can completely illustrate what his scent was like, nor any personified object that can depict the invigoration. He wasn't the type to wear any kind of male fragrances, so she figured it _had_ to be a natural redolence. There were times where she found herself subconsciously lean towards him, sitting exceptionally close to his body during missions in order to take his essence in. She paid little heed towards his uneasy stances and forced coughs, figuring it was merely an old habit of his; since he frequently conducted the odd actions around her. Even now, as she was pressed against the cold, wooden floor of his house, she still couldn't provide an accurate portrayal for his aroma. She simply figured if nature itself were to bear a human form, it would smell of all the good in the earth.   
  
Like he did.  
  
As she lay underneath his body, she smiled to herself.   
She has always been addicted to him, even before the growth of sentiment.  
  
"What?" he asked in a whisper, the side of her face feeling his curious smile. She shook her head as he trailed his mouth against her skin, slowly traveling down her throat.   
"Nothing," she breathed. "You just smell good."  
  
Their wet clothes were drying from the heat of their bodies, pressed closely against each other on a floor riddled with puddles of water. The rain on her skin was evaporating into heated kisses down her body, making her breathe as if oxygen had become scarce in the atmosphere. The brilliance of her green eyes were hidden behind a Konoha headband, deliberately tied around her head as she fell to his touch. Though she still wasn't permitted to gaze upon his sacred identity he insistently hid behind his mask, she knew what he felt like.   
  
Perfect, as she imagined him to be.  
  
The mysterious aurora he protruded only added to the excitement. Her hands were held hostage above her head with a binding spell, leaving her helpless as to knowing where he'll caress her next. She sighed underneath his soft, gentle kisses; finding her mouth slightly opening on its own, trying to fulfill her body's demand for more. To her dismay, he purposely kept a distance from her needs to keep her desperately longing; causing her to wither below him. The warmth from her chest spread, infecting her body with only his furtive touch as its cure. He saw her gripping her hands, hearing her stifle a cry as she urgently wished for him to touch her in more promising places. Her lips felt his mouth curve into a coy smile.   
  
His power over her was exhilarative.  
  
He gave pity to her and deepened the kiss, feeling her eagerly devour his mouth with her delicate lips and tongue desperately searching for nothing. He tasted faintly of her lipgloss; its strawberry flavor smeared into the bliss she willingly relinquished to. She felt his hand glide underneath her damp shirt, tenderly stroking her sides and slyly moving upward. His slight shift of his hips abruptly deepened the pleasure in her, his ears hearing her peremptory need for him. Her weakening strength couldn't hold the quiet moan that escaped her mouth as her body arched into his, inciting the demand for more.   
  
"No, not yet," he murmured, running his wet kisses towards her chest. She felt the vibration of his deep voice travel in her and swallowed, forcefully biting her tongue to hold down a whimper. His teeth steadily unzipped the rest of her shirt, the light buzz of metal distantly ringing in her ears. The heat of his breath caressed her skin against her chest, heaving from her short intake of breaths. Suddenly, she felt the warmth of his face leave her and his muscles tense up.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
The muffled sound of thunder and rain tapping against the roof of the house abruptly became audible as a questioning silence enveloped them. She turned her head to the right, hoping to receive a better hearing range to detect what was going on.   
  
They held their breath in unison.  
  
After an eternity of seconds, he leaned forward and offered a gentle, reassuring kiss on the lips. She felt him shake his head, his mess of silver hair tickling her nose.   
  
"I just thought I heard something," he whispered.  
  
_Knock. Knock. Knock._  
  
He groaned in frustration, finding his suspicions correct to his dissatisfaction. Lifting his mask back over his nose, he diminished the binding spell from her wrists and pulled down the headband from her eyes. She stared back at him with a glimmer of uncertainty in a brilliant green color. He got on his knees and gently lifted her by the waist, sitting her against the wall once more.  
  
_Knock. Knock. Knock.  
_  
She heard him click his tongue and sigh, seeing him turn his head towards her. Cupping a hand on her cheek, he smiled an apology and kissed her forehead.  
  
"I'll be back," she heard him whisper in her ear before he stood up.  
  
The sound of a door unlatching and the voices of two men were a faint, distant sound that echoed in her ears. The breeze of cold air that blew in mingled with her body tempurature, cooling down the heat of her skin from his sentimental touches. Hands resting on her legs, she tilted her head against the wall and closed her eyes.   
  
There was once a story between a little girl and her mysterious teacher; an innocent relationship of a child, and a man who trained her to live the proper ways of a shinobi. The little girl would find him during warm, spring afternoons as the petals of her name delicately floated across the sky. She would sit in his lap as he read, amusing herself by blowing dandelions into his face and singing the native songs of her village into his ear. She would end up falling asleep in his arms unknowingly, to find herself waking up in her own bed and wondering if her day was nothing but a hazy dream.  
  
Afterwards, the little girl began to wonder if her life was just a dream; a dream, to which she found herself never waking up to. The idea began to frighten her, causing her to frequently have sleepless nights and mornings touched with dry tears upon her face. No one understood why she was acting the way she was, nor did they understand her words when she tried to explain. The little girl became lost, wandering around the streets as droplets of rain were strewn from her innocent, green eyes.  
  
A soft smile suddenly lifted across her pink lips one day, her hands quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks. She found him again; the same man in her distant dream that held her in his lap and listened to her small voice chime amongst the breeze of spring. The same man who she walked behind with during missions, mimicing his footsteps in hopes of being a grown-up like he was. Her heart lifted towards his presence, walking to him and sitting in his lap like her dreams portrayed.   
  
"Will I ever wake up again?" the little girl asked him, peering into his face for an answer. He leaned forward and kissed her small forehead, wiping the rest of her tears away.  
"You've been awake all along," he whispered to her. "You just haven't opened your eyes yet."  
  
Although she couldn't understand his words, he understood hers.   
The little girl has smiled towards his direction ever since.  
  
"Sakura," a voice quietly called out.   
  
Her eyes fluttered open from her brief nap and looked up.  
There was something wrong.  
  
She slowly lifted herself from the floor and stood up. She saw his eyes glazed with a number of thoughts running through his mind.  
  
"Kakashi," she called hesitantly. "What... What's going on? What did that man say?"  
  
She took a step forward when he didn't respond.  
  
He lifted a small, white piece of paper in his hand towards her direction.  
"I have a mission tomorrow," he softly replied. "Directed from the Hokage herself."  
  
"Hokage hersel--" she stopped as a small spark of fear ignited inside her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and bit her bottom lip.  
  
"Tell me," her voice demanded shakily. "What's the rank?"  
His eyes continued to stare at her, unfixed.   
Blank. Emotionless.  
  
"Sakura, I can't--"  
"Just tell me!" she shrieked.  
  
He closed his eyes and sighed, listening to the thumping of his heart and footsteps walking towards her. She felt him wrap an arm around her waist to tenderly pull her into a quiet embrace. He held the side of her face as she looked up to him in question, her cheeks heated from impatience.  
  
"It's an S-Ranked mission, up in the north where--"  
"No," she shook her head, averting her eyes away from his. "Kakashi, you can't do this--"  
"It's my duty."  
"Duty?" she yelled, pushing him away and glaring with eyes brimmed in tears. "Do you know what the other word for _duty_ is?" she inquired through her light, rackful sobs. "_Death._"  
  
Her body withered away and slid back down to the floor, landing on her knees. Her palms covered her face as she cried, the fear and anger injecting her as she realized she was still living in a world filled with no future but death and pain. It was the way of the ninja, and she hated it. She hated everything.  
  
She continued to cry as he knelt in front of her, pulling her hands from her face and wiping her tears away with his fingers.   
  
"Shh, it's going to be okay," he pressed his forehead against hers and stroked her hair. "It's going to be okay."  
  
She closed her eyes, trying to calm her body from shaking from wails of pain in her chest. The burning was severe, spreading through every nerve of her body. She felt as if her lungs couldn't take in any more air, feeling the pressure crush her ribs; ripping her heart without sympathy.   
  
"H-how long is it going to be?" she managed out. Her mouth tasted of salt as the stream continued to flow down her cheeks.  
  
"Two months. Three months max," he gently replied. He was inwardly dying, cut up into pieces from fate and its unmerciful hand. The meaning of life in his world was to kill, or be killed; but he wanted neither.   
  
"Sakura, I'm coming back." He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold down his own tears from falling. "I'm coming back for you."  
  
She lifted her head and closed her eyes. Pulling his mask down, she kissed him on the lips; his mouth tasting the bitterness of her pain. The glowing facade of her eyes looked back at him after she covered his face once more.  
  
"Give me your hand," she commanded, wiping her eyes and sniffing away the tears.  
"What are you--"  
"Just give me your hand."  
  
He removed his hand from her side to rest in her lap in front of her. She took both her hands in his and turned it palm up. Leaning herself forward, she laid her forehead on his shoulder as she did before; her eyes looking down as her fingers delicately traced the lines and crevices of his hand. He gently pressed the side of his head against hers and closed his eyes. The palm of his hand began to feel her index finger move intricately, writing him a secret message one letter at at time.

I.

Love.

U.

"Sakura," he whispered, his eyes brimming in tears.  
"I'm not allowed to say it," she murmured, feeling liquid droplets rain from her face to their hands. "But I want you to feel it."

There was once a story between a little girl and her mysterious teacher.  
There was now a love between a young woman and a man.  
But the little girl came back one day.

Feeling as lost as ever.


End file.
